


All Too Sweet

by likingandloving



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Honeymoon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 02:28:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5726377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likingandloving/pseuds/likingandloving
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The moments in Ben and Leslie's honeymoon we all wanted to see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Too Sweet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dexhart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dexhart/gifts).



> Hey guys! Enjoy this little one-shot on what I think happened on Ben and Leslie's honeymoon in Hawaii! Just a lot of general cuteness and fluff :D This is for dexhart, who wanted a honeymoon fic!

Leslie sighs happily, lips pressed to the edge of a martini glass as they sip and sit quietly a few feet away from the shore. She was wearing a new bikini (courtesy of her wonderful, beautiful, and all around experienced stylist Ann) that had gotten Ben to give her the reaction she wanted. Dark eyes, grabby hands and pleads to stay longer in the room just for ten minutes that quickly turned into two hours.

Her muscles unwound to the gently rhythm of waves washing over the shore. The alcohol that thrummed in her blood just added to the state of relaxation that she was already so deeply under, happily thinking again to herself how perfect this was. She shifted slightly, resting her head against Ben’s chest and just letting the moment seep in.

It’s sometime in the early afternoon and the sun is at it’s peak, pounding down on the umbrella they’re perched under because she and Ben were unfortunately as white as undriven snow.

(She already feels bad for their future children. They, sadly, won’t be able to enjoy sunshine without at least a thick one-inch coat of sunscreen on their pale skins.)

It’s been less than a week since the wedding and Ben had put together this entire honeymoon himself, despite her insistence. Ben had arranged everything so quickly and so efficiently that she had almost pushed his laptop off of his lap and kissed him and touched him until he couldn’t think straight. Her husband was good at many things, but being organized and efficient was probably in the top 10. (Along with being incredibly, irresistibly sexy.)

Well, that wasn’t the first time he had been so jump-his-bones-straight-away hot. Ben has _always_ been attractive.

She remembers the first day he walked into the Parks department; shoulders squared and tight fist around his suitcase like he was ready for battle. She remembers thinking about how despite the serious expression on his face, there was bit of amusement and mirth that lingered when Chris began to talk. She had thought to herself for a split second that he was actually kind of cute.

Until he opened his mouth and all that cuteness went out the window when he was talking about gutting her budget with a machete.

Ever since the first day he walked into the Parks office (no matter how much she tried to deny it at that time) she couldn’t help but observe every detail of him, like he was a painting whose brushes, strokes, and even unintended freckles of paint were to be memorized. The way the slope of his butt was enclosed in the tight fabric of his pants, flexing every single time he took a step. The way the sharp angle of his jaw, often covered by a thin layer of stubble, often tightened whenever he’s concentrating. His tight, taut, calves that were lined with thick muscle that flexed as he stretched them for his morning run (a habit that Chris got him into he says). The thin curves of his mouth, his inexplicably cute mouth, would purse when he was thinking. Leslie would just need to take one look at one (or most, as she usually does) of these qualities and she would be ready to jump his bones right then and there.

But at the thought of all those being hers, and only hers, permanently was enough to make her lose all self-control.

She glances over at him, nimble fingers holding a book and browsing through its pages with his eyebrows furrowed. He has a little bit of scruff, evidence of his lack of shaving, but she doesn’t care.

She can’t care.

Not when a silver band that draws all of her attention shines so brightly against his skin.

Ben made a noise of disagreement as he stared down at his book, his Raybans slowly slipping on the long slope of his nose to reveal his focused eyes.

She can’t believe it.

She’s in Hawaii, where scenery was to die for. Where blue waves lapped slowly at the shore and the white sand sparkled like a million pieces of glass.

But the only thing she could look at was her husband.

She rolls around the word again in her head, something she hasn’t been able to stop doing since their wedding.

Husband.

She knows now that she's never going to get tired of saying it; never going to get tired of waking up in the morning and turning on her side and seeing Ben, his face smushed against a pillow and a little dribble of drool coming out of the corner of his mouth as he snores and think that this was the man she chose to spend her life with. 

“Hey Ben?” Ben turns to her, smile quirking at the corner of his lips.

“Yeah babe?”

“Do you really like sitting out here?”

Ben glances around at the almost deserted beach; save for a few children playing in the sand and distraught parents trying to get them to put on sunblock and to not eat sand, and shrugs.

“It’s nice. I mean, the temperature is amazing and the wind feels good.”

“But you know what would feel better?” Leslie asks, lips brushing his earlobe and hand trailing across his chest. Ben already knows what Leslie is suggesting, but can’t help but dumbly ask.

“W-What?”

She leans up to his ear and mutters inaudibly to him, her hand softly ghosting the skin of his abdomen as Ben’s pupils dilate and his jaw slackens. It doesn’t take long for him to throw his book and her dress into the bag she brought and tug on her hand, her cackles echoing in the wind as he leads her straight back into their hotel room.

\---

“Are you sure this is it?” Leslie asks, glancing down at Ben’s phone.

“Pretty sure. Doesn’t this look like it?”

“I dunno. It looks like the others.”

“That’s because it’s a bus bench. There are probably like 20 more around here.”

“But Ben, we need to find _the_ bus bench.” Ben scratches his head, glancing down at his phone. After a moment, he nods his head and a wide smile crosses his face.

“I’m pretty sure this is it.”

Ben holds up a picture of a young Barack Obama, sitting patiently while waiting for the bus. Leslie tilts her head, her eyes slanting. She has to admit, it looks pretty much exactly the same, but this _is_ one of many bus benches.

But this should do.

“This should be it.”

“Well then, go ahead, take a seat!” Ben nudges her, waiting for her to settle herself on the bench before snapping a quick picture on his phone. He smiles to himself, glancing down at the picture before showing it to her.

“Wow, I can’t believe that I’m sitting on a piece of history.” Leslie says, awe in her voice. Ben nods, pressing a fleeting kiss to her temple before wrapping a solid, steady arm around her shoulders.

“Actually, history in the making. The future president of the United States sitting right where Barack Obama used to take the bus.”

How was he always so cavalier about their future? Not once has he said that she would never be more than a City Councilor, or more than just local government. He’s always just casually mentioned their future plans, of what was to come when she was Governor, or when she was Senator, or when she was President. Ben has always been her number one believer and supporter and God, how did she get so lucky?

Someone _had_ to tell her how she got so lucky and how she would make it stay this way.

Leslie bites her lip, trying to not let the wide grin cross her face for the umpteenth time this entire vacation. She hums; pressing her nose into Ben’s side and letting the smell of their detergent and something that distinctly smells of Ben, of warm coffee and mint, fill her senses.

“Have I ever told you how amazing you are?”

“Once or twice but you know when I prefer hearing it---” He presses his lips right at the edge of her jaw before sliding them lightly to her ear.

“—When you’re being amazing?”

“--- Right when you’re about to orgasm, actually.”

Leslie freezes, registering nothing but the smooth kisses he peppers on her neck.

“Beeeen.” She whines. “You can’t do that. We still have an entire day ahead of us. I mean we’re still going to that volcano that April wanted us to go to, looking at Honolulu City Hall and dinner reservations.”

“So? I see a bathroom over there that’ll be perfect.”

Leslie contemplates it for a moment, but Ben instead chuckles into her hair and twines their fingers together.

“Come on, we need to get back to the hotel before our pickup service gets there.” Ben moves to leave but Leslie stays rooted in her spot and Ben turns back, confusion etched in his features.

“What?”

Leslie ignores his question and instead kisses him with the fire she feels building deep within her. He can’t do that, be teasing, be supportive, and be all sexy and think even for a moment that she’s not going to jump him. Their lips and teeth clash, where only hot, bated breaths occupy the empty space between them. Ben jumps away when there’s a car horn that cuts through their haze.

“Leslie.” He hisses, but what she feels pressed against her abdomen tells her that he’s not even a little mad at this. “We can’t do this _here_.”

“You’re right.” She sighs. “We can’t do this here.”

She grabs his hand and tugs him towards the public restroom a few meters away, briefly checking if it was empty before pulling him in and locking the door.

“But we can totally do it here.”

Maybe the future President reminiscing where former presidents were would be in history books, but Leslie knows that what happens next is definitely something the history books won’t write in.

\---

Leslie laughs, resting her hands on the angles of his hips and pushing him closer to the water.

“You’re crazy.”

Ben huffs, frowning before staring at the impeding water that swims around his toes.

“I’m not crazy, Leslie. It’s the ocean. There are a lot of things, a lot of unknown things, that swim in the ocean.”

“But Ben, come on, the water’s too beautiful for us not to swim in it.”

“Can’t we swim by the pool?” He reasons, frown set on his face. Leslie just sighs.

“Because this is the ocean, Ben. We don’t have an ocean anywhere near Indiana. It’s not something we see every single day so let’s enjoy it.” Leslie grips loosely on his hand, trying to guide him into deeper but he is steadfast in his spot and Leslie eventually gives up, telling him that he can just wait for her by the umbrella but _she_ wants to swim in the ocean.

She pulls off her dress and tosses it into Ben’s face before letting herself wade deeper into the waters.

Ben stands on the shore for a moment, watching as Leslie retreated into waters, wearing _that_ swimsuit, and getting too far away from him.

Way too far.

Ben sighs, rubbing the soft material of her dress and letting his eyes drift among the waves, watching as Leslie’s silhouette was emphasized in its contrast to the red and orange of the fading sun. The waves swelled and dropped in slow, gentle movements around her and he can’t help but feel lucky that this is what he gets to look at; the curve of Leslie’s hips (which she complains often is too wide), the pretty blonde hair that he could spend hours pushing back and tangling in his fingers and the tight fabric of that damn swimsuit seemingly painted on her.

He watches as she starts to just stand in the middle of the ocean and stares out at the ephemeral hues of the setting sun. He wishes he could be there with her, right by her side.

Well, he could.

He stares contemplatively at the water, trying to rationalize in his mind if it was worth it to go all the way over to Leslie, who seemed like an entire football field away at this point.

He decides to screw it.

Screw it all.

His wife was standing in the middle of the ocean, all _alone_ , and they were on their honeymoon. This must be against the honeymoon rules and regulations, right? He thinks back to what Ron said before he left for D.C., about them holding hands and jumping into the unknown together. That was what they did, what they always did, and more so now.

They were married now.

Husband and wife.

A team.

He promised in front of all their friends (and luckily none of their family) that what used to be just ‘me’ and ‘you’ would now be an ‘us’. He still can’t believe that he did that.

And he can’t believe either how he got so lucky.

He tosses the dress on the sand and tugs off his shirt, pushing out of his mind the statistics of being stung by jellyfish or stepping on a sea urchin or anything else that might lead to his demise, and instead feels the push of the waves against his thighs and focuses on getting to his wife.

His _wife_.

He used to imagine what his wife would be like when he was still a state auditor. Eating burritos at a gas station and wondering if he’d ever have a permanent home. Maybe he’d meet an accountant who would laugh at his puns or a lawyer who secretly loved Star Wars. What he never expected was the fireball of a woman he met three years ago, who has so vehemently argued with him on fiscal responsibility and was ready to do anything (and by anything, he means anything, even trying to convince Chris to give them more money via a date with Ann), would be the woman who he was spending his life with.

He actually can’t see it any other way.

Ben remembers, with a small smile on his face, the moment that he knew he would be spending his life with Leslie Knope. He had a beer tightly wound in his hands, the skyline of D.C. blinking with the lights of a thousand lives, as he stared at their picture together. His arm was slung protectively around her shoulders and the smile on their faces indicative of how happy they were, how happy he was, whenever she was around.

‘Think about your future’ Jen had said, before leaving him to choose between his career and her. The decision ended up being quite easy because he’s always put her first, above anything else.

He realizes now that if he were offered that choice, over and over again, he would always choose her.

Her over Chris’ stupid rule.

Her over his job.

Her over his (very legitimate) fear of the ocean.

Her over anything.

When he reaches her, he simply wraps his arms around her waist, letting the movements of the water soothe him as she rests against him. Together, they watch the sun linger in the sky and know that this is it.

They don’t need words.

They had a lifetime of words ahead.

\---

The day they have to leave, after a weeklong honeymoon, Leslie refuses to leave their bed.

“Babe, come on, we’re going to miss our flight if we don’t leave in like thirty minutes.” Leslie pouts, still wrapped in nothing but the white hotel sheets and Ben really loves what’s going on right now, but he was dead serious about them missing their flight.

“But Beee-een. I don’t wanna leave.”

“Why not? Les, when you go back you have work and you get to give gifts to the entire Parks department. You love giving gifts.”

“Yeah but—“

“But what?” Ben asks, entirely confused. Never has he ever seen Leslie so adamant against going back to Pawnee or work in the entire time that he’s known her. Leslie bites on her lower lip thoughtfully, ducking her head in what seems like shame.

“What if it doesn’t stay this way?”

Ben frowns.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what if our honeymoon is as good as it gets? What if after this we stop having fun and stop having sex and start fighting ending up like your parents?” Leslie is suddenly extremely frazzled, the panic and fear rising in her tone and Ben almost wants to laugh at the hilarity of it all. He knows its not going to help, so instead he smiles and grips her arms tightly.

“Hey, Leslie, listen to me. This is not going to be as good as it gets, okay?” He rubs her arms reassuringly. “Because we have a lot more than just this to look forward to.”

“You’re going to run for a bigger position someday and we’re going to have kids and celebrate our anniversaries and all the holidays in between and maybe I’ll run again for office and I’m not promising that it’s not gonna be rough sometimes, because it is, but—“ He sighs softly and tries to muster the love he feels, the love he’s sure he’s never going to stop feeling, into his next words.

“As long we’re doing it all together, it’s going to be amazing, okay? I promise you.”

A smile soon breaks on Leslie’s lips.

“And the sex?” She asks teasingly.

“Oh, if you ever think that I’m going to get tired of having sex with you, you’ve got another thing coming. Even if we’re old and wrinkled, I’m still going to find you the sexiest and most beautiful woman in the world and I promise you that’s not going to change.”

“As long as your promise to keep this—“ She reaches down and pats his butt lightly “—In tip-top shape, we should be good for the rest of our lives, baby.”

He chuckles before leaning down to kiss her. Their lips part and move in slow, lucid movements. The way they kiss has evolved since the first time he kissed her in the City Manager’s office almost two years ago. That kiss was rushed, their lips and teeth trying to maintain all the contact as it could before they were inevitably stopped either by the fear of getting caught by Chris. There was always a timeline, a deadline for them.

But now, they kiss slowly. They kiss like time was stretched in front of them and they couldn’t see the end of it all. They had the rest of their lives to kiss if they wanted and Leslie thinks it’s possibly the best thing in the world.

After Ben, of course.

Ben pushes lightly at her shoulders, breaking their kiss.

“Come on, you need to get dressed.”

“Why? Not liking what’s under this sheet?” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, slowly lowering the sheet to expose more and more of her skin. She watches as Ben’s eyes darken, the dark brown almost black at this point as he trails the expanse of her skin.

“No, because if you don’t get dressed, we’re not going to make our flight home.” Ben protests, but Leslie sees that it’s weak, his resolve caving quickly.

She makes a ‘come hither’ motion, biting on her lower lip teasingly before spreading her legs and letting the last of the sheet fall to the floor.

"Then why don't you rebook the flight?" 

\---

 

 

 


End file.
